


Not-Always-Goth Prince

by pastelkanan



Series: {A Series of Dad Dating Adventures} [1]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Love Confessions, Multi, Other, Post-Game(s), Reader Is Your MC/Dadsona
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelkanan/pseuds/pastelkanan
Summary: You're continuing your romance with Damien. Mary already teases you about spending too much time together, but what does she know about it? You're happy with him and he's happy with you. That's all that matters.





	1. A Rainy Day in the Library

**Author's Note:**

> A few things to note as I write this!  
> \- In case it isn't clear, I chose to write this as a /reader fic instead of a /dadsona fic because of the option to choose "binder bod", and so I would feel like a fucking prick if I wrote a /dadsona story about something where you can choose to have your dadsona be a cis dude or a trans dude. I dunno what parts y'all have. Don't care. You do you. We're just here to have fun and date some hot dads.  
> \- Really not sure if any of that made sense. Just go with me on this one, alright?  
> \- It recently came to my attention that our boy Damien is, in fact, a trans boy, which is pretty rad. I love my boy. I might touch upon this subject once in awhile as I write more.  
> \- Lastly, this whole thing has absolutely no cohesive arcing plot. No coherent arcing plot to be seen. I just want to write some short, cute scenes with Damien because he's a good boy and I love him.

   It's raining outside. You snuggle closer to Damien, glancing from your book to his. The two of you are sitting in his library, reading together and listening to the rain hitting the window and the roof. Damien had pulled out a comfortable blanket for the two of you to share as you sat next to each other.

   You sigh and close the book in your hands. It's not a bad book, it's just… not the kind of thing you usually read. Also, you'd hate for him to find out that you're reading more of his _Naruto_ fanfiction collection. The nice, _good person_ part of you says that it's kinda mean to think it's funny that he likes Naruto, but the _bad person_ part is laughing its ass off. Holy hell. Your boyfriend reads Naruto/Sasuke fanfiction. And possibly writes some. You aren't sure yet. Maybe you should ask.

   “Hey, Damien?” you ask, wondering just how to approach this situation.

   Damien looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “Yes?”

   “Do you… remember that book I found the first time you invited me here?”

   He sighs and his cheeks take on a slight pink tinge. “Ah, that. Yes, I remember.”

   “I was wondering something. I know you're probably embarrassed and I understand that, but you know you can talk to me about anything. I just have to ask. Have you ever written any of that stuff? Or do you just have physical copies of your favorite stories?”

   Oh, _god._ He is so cute. His blush is getting worse. “I… I may have dabbled in it once or twice,” he says, shifting awkwardly. “I wasn't very good at it. I decided it would be best if I collected the stories of others instead of attempting my own.”

   You pout a little. “I bet your stories are good, though. I'd like to read one.”

   Damien shakes his head. “The last time I tried to write one was a long time ago. Things like writing letters or books in my head are very easy for me, but getting a genuine story out just doesn't work. I have no remnants of that past to show you.”

   You wish you had that handkerchief on you, the one he gave you on the night of your second date. You would've used it to dab away imaginary tears at your loss. “Alas. That would have been fun.”

   “For you, maybe,” he says. He picks up his bookmark from the side table and places it in the book, shutting it and then returning it to the top of a pile on the table. He looks back at you, taking you fully into his arms.  “What about you? Do you have any literary escapades you'd like to share? You’ve mentioned your appreciation for words.”

   You shudder as you remember the poetry you wrote in eighth grade. “I was an angsty middle schooler once. That… was a thing. A very bad thing.”

   Damien smiles. “We've all been there.”

   “Ugh. Middle school was hell.”

   “That it was.”

   You rest your head against him. With the way you're both angled, you can put your ear to his chest and hear the beat of his heart. It's strong. Just like he is.

   You're so proud of him.

   “Damien,” you say. “I know I already said this, but I'm really proud of you. For everything. For starting to be more comfortable with who you are outside of the goth thing. You're amazing, you know that?”

   You're pretty sure his heart is beating faster now. That's adorable. “I… I owe it to you, dear. I'm not sure I'd ever be able to tell anyone that I work IT if it wasn't for you. Or wear tennis shoes outside. Or admit that I like looking at storage solutions. Just any of those non-goth things, really.”

   You close your eyes. This is the most comfortable you've been in a long while. “Oh, please. The most I did was give you a little push out the door. Well, I guess technically Mary did that when she sent us after the Duchess. Whatever.”

   Damien laughs and your heart soars. You never get tired of that sound. You never get tired of his voice. Somehow, you'd enjoy watching paint dry and grass grow at the same time as long as he was there with you. “But I would not have been able to admit it to all of the rest of our friends if you hadn't reassured me that it's okay to not be completely gothic all the time. You restored my confidence to do so. I won't ever be able to repay you.”

   “Mmm. You don't owe me anything. Seeing you happy is more than enough.”

   Damien starts using his index finger to trace circles on your shoulder. It's a relaxing motion, his gentle touch and the repeated rhythm of movement sending absolute calmness through your veins. You never want to move from this spot ever again.

   This is it. You and Damien are going to starve to death here together. You just decided that. A slow, painful death would be better than getting up from this spot. “I… I love you,” Damien says.

   “I love you too,” you reply without thinking, not realizing for a moment that that was the first time he said _I love you._ It's been implied, of course, what with the way you're his exception to the rule of _no public displays of affection_ , but hearing the real, verbal confirmation is a bit of a shock. Your eyes open, though not as much as they probably should have. You're very comfortable and rather tired. “Wait. You… you're in love with me? Really?”

   “Madly,” he replies. “I can't imagine a world where I don't fall for you.” He pauses and swallows nervously. “Did you mean it? That you love me too, I mean. If you said it on reflex, I understand.”

   Oh, great. Thanks, Damien. Now you're blushing. “I definitely meant it,” you manage to admit after a moment of trying to find the right words. “I love you, Damien. I really do.” Even though you're half asleep by now, you manage to sit up and look him in the eyes. “I love you,” you repeat.

   Damien smiles again and kisses you softly. “I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

   You know you’re still blushing. How could you not be? “Me too,” you say, laying your head back down on his chest. “My handsome not-always-goth prince.”

   He chuckles. You rearrange the blanket and sigh happily. The continued background noise of the rain, the warmth of his body against you, the beat of his heart and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes… he holds you close even as you drift off to sleep.


	2. A Romantic Candlelit Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find Damien making dinner. Once again, you're struck by just how wonderful he is and how lucky you are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi so I'm super lame and wrote another one of these the same day I posted the first one that's cool I guess

   You walk into the kitchen to see Damien standing over the stove, carefully tending to two separate pots. You sneak up behind him and look over his shoulder. There's pasta in one pot, a selection of vegetables in the other. As not to startle him too badly, you take a few steps backward before you say anything.

   “Hey.”

   He still jumps a little. He sighs, the noise clearly irritation at himself for being jumpy like that. He looks over his shoulder at you and says, “How nice of you to finally join me. Did you get bored of your show?”

   “I’m never bored of bad reality TV,” you say. “But I get lonely without you.”

   There is literally nothing quite as adorable as Damien’s blush. He looks away from you and back to the food before embarrassing himself too much. “I was going to surprise you with dinner.”

   A small part of your heart withers and dies. Oh, no. You're such a jerk. You ruined his adorable surprise. Why are you like this? “I'm sorry,” you say, guilt about to overwhelm you. “I can go back and keep watching and pretend to be surprised when you call me in for dinner.”

   Damien shakes his head. “No, no. Don't worry about it. I don't mind. I just hope you like this.”

   “I haven't eaten it yet but I love it,” you promise. “I'm thrilled. You're the sweetest and you spoil me and I love you.”

   He has his hair pulled back into a ponytail to keep it out of the way as he cooks. You can see his continued blush even from where you stand behind him. He's. So. Cute. “I admit, this isn't period accurate, but it is vegetarian. I know you used to eat pizza with Amanda before she left for school, and perhaps you have become accustomed to regularly eating meat, but…”

   “I love when you cook for me,” you say. “I'm no good at it. You're _really_ good at it. Vegetarian is wonderful. As long as you're cooking it, I'm happy to eat anything.”

   Damien doesn't reply for a moment. He adds something to the pot with vegetables, then turns off the heat to the pasta. He takes the pot over to the sink where there’s both a pasta and a vegetable strainer waiting for him. He pours the contents of the pot into the pasta strainer, letting the water run through and brings the strainer full of pasta back over to the stove. “You're very sweet,” he says. “I am happy to hear you like my cooking so much. Lucien is happy with a vegetarian diet, but I have raised him on it. The two of us have been considering taking up veganism, you know.”

   You did not know. “Really? I know there's a difference, but is veganism better than vegetarianism?”

   Damien nods. “For the lactose intolerant, most certainly. Neither of us are, but I find that cow’s milk sometimes has an awfully strange taste to it. Nut-based milks also don't expire as quickly as cow’s milk does, which is beneficial for us. Sometimes Lucien eats three bowls of cereal in one day, and other times he goes nearly two weeks without eating any sort breakfast. I worry about him.”

   “I know the feeling, but you've been a better dietary role model to Lucien than I have been to Amanda. I can't cook worth a damn. Our meals have always been quick, easy, and painless. Also greasy. And generally not a good idea.” You sigh. “I haven't actually changed much since college. Don't tell Craig. He’ll come into my house and throw away all of my junk food.”

   “I would never betray your trust. It will be our secret.”

   You smile. You can always count on him. “You're the best. I love you.” He smiles back at you. Speaking of Lucien, though… “When is Lucien going to be back, by the way?”

   Damien sighs exasperatedly. “I'm never sure. With luck, he will be home before we go to bed. He likes hanging around in alleyways late at night. I would prefer that he would spend his time in the cemetery. Everyone there is already dead. Nobody would attack someone in a _cemetery_.”

   “Except zombies.”

   “Zombies don't exist, love.”

   “Still, I don't think you have to worry about him _too_ much. He probably would have really managed to _Cask of Amontillado_ Ernest if he hadn’t started laughing.”

   “I'm not so sure that's a good thing.”

   You laugh. “Maybe not. I was impressed with that, though. I can't believe he got so far. But I guess in the end it didn't even matter.”

   “Is that another reference to a song I haven't heard?”

   “Absolutely. I've got to give you an education in modern edgy teenager music.”

   “I would prefer if you didn't do that,” he says as he turns off the heat to the vegetables. He repeats his steps from earlier, now straining the vegetables. “Sometimes I hear it coming from his room. Most of it is horrid.”

   The conversation reaches its end as he grabs two bowls from one of the cabinets and a large serving spoon from a drawer. You watch as he fills the bowls with the pasta and vegetables and mixes them together, then sprinkles them with a bit of black pepper. He looks over at you and says, “Why don't you go sit in the dining room? I'll bring everything in a moment.”

   “You did the cooking. I can do the serving.”

   He gives you a _look_. “Please. A host serves his guests, not the other way around. As long as you are in my home, I will take care of you. Go sit down.”

   You sigh in defeat. He makes a valid point. You always go out of your way to take care of him while he's at your house, so maybe it's fair to let him take care of you over here. As you make your way to the dining room, you think about the next nice thing you'll be able to do for him. He's so sweet, so… pure. Yeah, that's the word. _Pure_. He's so much more innocent than he seems like he'd be.

   You remember having been somewhat intimidated by him and his strong emotions that day you saw him in Dead, Goth, & Beyond. He had long, black hair that was somewhat reminiscent of a lion’s mane, the way it fell around his face and the way it looked when he ran his hand through it. His nails, black tips on long, thin fingers, had a decently sharp edge to them. There was, of course, also the matter of the makeup he wore. It was _beautiful_ , making him look like a vampire prince from the olden days, but it was done in a way that could be intimidating if he stared at someone with contempt in his eyes.

   Have you ever really seen _contempt_ in his eyes? He frightens easily, he adores cute dogs, he wears those precious glasses when he's working with technology… Damien doesn't seem to be capable of _hate_ , except for maybe hatred for the Edwardian era. Which was fair. Since you've gotten to know him, you've learned a lot about the Victorian era and the Edwardian era. Man, the Edwardians were lame. Damien was right. The Victorians were far superior.

   Although, if it hadn't been for the absolute passion in Damien’s voice as he talks about the Victorian era, you aren't sure you'd be able to tell the difference between the two. You wouldn't really care if it wasn't for him. He… he's just… ugh, there's no combination of words that really describes him. He's so _lovable_. Everything about him is wonderful. He lives in a house that looked like it should be a movie set, you were about to eat a candlelit dinner with him at a grand dining table. He’s like a walking piece of art. There's nothing about him that isn't incredible, even the IT job he thinks makes him boring.

   Speaking of, he comes walking into the dining room pushing a food cart in front of him. There are the two bowls of the pasta dish, two glasses of water, two smaller bowls of fruit, and… a rose. You watch as he places the food and drinks on the table, one set in front of you and one where he sits. Then he picks up the rose and holds it out to you.

   “For you, my love,” he says.

   Oooohhhhhh lord. Oh god. You're dying. Your face is hot and you're sure you're dying. You take the rose, smiling and blushing like an idiot the whole time. “Thank you,” you reply. “I… you're so… God, I adore you.” There are no thorns on the rose’s stem, so you do the dorkiest thing you can think of and tuck it into your hair behind your ear. His eyes light up.

   Before he sits down, he steals a kiss.


	3. A Sick Day in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien got sick with the flu. You, being the good loving partner you are, have been taking care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that time when Damien said that he likes to not die when he catches a cold? Well yeah that's pretty much what inspired this lmao

   A part of you thinks you should have become a doctor or a medical researcher. Something along that line. Maybe you would have been able to find an immediate cure for influenza, a combination of ingredients all shoved into one pill that would utterly _destroy_ the flu in five minutes flat. God, that'd be nice. For now, all you can do is look at the number on the thermometer and sigh. Damien is still running a fever. His fever had broken last night and you had hoped that it was gone for good, but… the abnormally high number stared back at you. If numbers could talk, this one would say something like, _Hah, I can't believe this loser actually thought I was gone._

   “Is it that bad?” Damien asks. His face is red and there's a bit of sweat on his forehead.

   You shake your head to reassure him. You also glance over at his night stand, to where his empty water glass sits surrounded by used tissues and cough drop wrappers. “It's not terrible. I'll go get you some more water and a wet cloth for your head, alright? And when I get back, I'll clean off the nightstand. It can't be healthy to have all of these just… sitting here.”

   Damien blinks slowly. He's been having trouble keeping his eyes open, even though you've told him a thousand times that rest is one of the things he needs to get better. He always says that he's concerned he might ruin his sleeping schedule by taking a nap, stubbornly forcing himself to stay awake all day. This is day _three_ of his flu. You really wish he would just take your advice and take a nap. “You don't need to take care of me like this. Iー” he pauses to cough, then continues, “ーcan take care of myself.”

   “I know you can, Damien. But you don't have to anymore, okay? As long as I'm around, you don't have to take care of yourself. I'll always be here for you.” Despite society’s constant warnings again touching sick people, you press a quick kiss to the top of his head. “I'm happy to take care of you to the best of my ability.”

   Damien smiles despite his apparent misery. “Sometimes it is hard for me to believe that I'm actually lucky enough to have you.”

   You smile back and brush a stray strand of hair away from his face. “Same here. After what happened… I didn't figure I'd ever be with anyone else again. I'm _so_ glad you were around to prove me wrong. I love you.”

   “I love you, too.” God, he's even beautiful when he's sick.

   “I'll be right back,” you say, picking up his glass and stepping away from the bed. “Don't go anywhere.”

   He nods weakly. Your heart is… confused. Part of it is soaring, so incredibly happy to know him and to be with him and to get to be close to him. And the other part is in _pain._ There isn't an immediate cure for the flu, just lots of rest and cough drops and fluids. Also no sudden movements because he might get super nauseous and get sick. You'd hate that.

   You wander into the kitchen, lost in thought about what else you can do for him. The most you can do is make sure that he's comfortable, and even though he says that he's doing well and you're taking good care of him, you can't help but feel like you aren't doing enough for him. Like there's something else you should do, something painfully obvious that you're just blind to.

   Lucien is standing in front of the microwave, looking from it to his phone and back again. The microwave timer says there's two minutes left. “What’re you making?” you ask as you press Damien’s glass to the refrigerator’s water dispenser.

   “Soup,” he replies with a shrug. “Gonna take it up to dad.”

   Oh. That's what you've been forgetting to do. You can't help but smile. You had definitely had your doubts about him when you first met, and maybe even for a little while after that, but your doubts have dissipated over these past few months. You don't know what he sees you as, or if he even really _likes_ you because he can be hard to read when it comes to that kind of thing, but you've grown rather fond of him. You wonder, if you and Damien ever got married, would Lucien accept you as a part of his family?

   You shake away the thought. It's embarrassing to catch yourself thinking about marrying Damien. You haven't been together all that long. “That's nice of you,” you say, taking the glass away as the water reaches an acceptable level. “I'm sure he’ll appreciate that.”

   Lucien grunts. You assume that’s the only response you're going to get, so you turn and head back out of the room. “Hey,” Lucien says, stopping you dead in your tracks. You look back at him. He won't look at you. “Thanks, I guess. For taking care of my dad. He’s always been takin’ care of me, so. I guess I'm kinda glad he has you.”

   You struggle to keep your cool. The thing about Lucien is that he’s… not good at emotions. He’s the poster boy of angsty teenagers. He thinks emotions are lame, or whatever the kids are saying these days. The point is: Lucien doesn’t really get along with people, he doesn’t really like people, and when he does manage to talk about how he feels, most of it is pretty negative and he rarely brings up any _good_ emotions. And…

   Lucien just said that he's glad you're around for his dad.

   You will now take a bullet for this boy.

   You nod. “I… Yeah. Uh, it’s not a problem. I…”

   “Love him? I know.” He looks up at you. “I heard that Mary already threatened you. I guess that means I don’t have to do it.”

   “I would appreciate this continued lack of threats, yes.”

   “Glad we reached an agreement.” He looks back down at his phone. The microwave is almost finished. “Go on, then. Go back to my dad. I’ll be bringing this up in a minute.”

   “Alright. You’re a good kid, you know that?”

   “Whatever.”

   You chuckle softly as you walk away and start back towards Damien’s room. That’s the Lucien you know. You hear the microwave start to beep as you approach the room. Damien is still laying down, thank God, when you walk in. He looks over at you and smiles to the best of his current ability. You hold his head up so he can take a sip of water, then put the glass on the nightstand.

   You cross the room to where a small trash bin sits next to his desk. How many desks does he have in this house? Too many, that’s for sure. There’s at _least_ seven full-sized desks in that house. It’s almost admirable, but it’s mostly pretty ridiculous. You push aside your thoughts about his desk collecting habits and pick up the trash bin, carrying it over to the side of Damien’s bed. You carefully pick up all of the tissues with your index finger and your thumb; you aren’t really afraid of his germs, of course, it’s just that he’ll blame himself if you get sick and you absolutely can _not_ let that happen. You’ll wash your hands when you’re done cleaning the nightstand.

   He watches you with tired eyes. You smile at him, as comfortingly as you can manage. You take another tissue out of the tissue box by the lamp and hold it out to him. “Your nose is running.”

   If his face wasn’t already flushed with fever, he’d probably start blushing. He accepts the tissue. “Ah. Thank you, love. That’s… unbecoming.”

   You shake your head and put the bin back down on the floor now that the nightstand is cleared. “Don’t worry about it. You’re fine.”

   He blows his nose. For a typically gross activity, he somehow makes it cute. He squeezes his eyes tight when he does that, making adorable little squeaky noises the whole time. God, he’s so perfect. In every single way. You’re still regularly astounded that he thinks you’re good enough for him. You never would have thought that he would take an interest in you. He still thinks that the _normal person_ side of him that wears tennis shoes and works in IT is boring, but all of that aside, nobody in their right mind can deny that he’s so… interesting. Passionate. Beautiful. Basically, you will never be able to trust people who don’t appreciate him.

   And you? Well. You go to sleep watching History Channel and doing word jumbles. You don’t know what it is that makes him think that you’re special. You don’t know why he ever spared you a second glance. There’s a burning curiosity in the back of your head, desperate to know _why_ he looked at you in the first place and _how_ he had ever fallen for you, but that doesn’t really matter, does it? As long as you’re together, none of those things matter.

   His being sick isn’t just hard because you have to see him suffer. It’s hard because you can’t kiss him the way you want to. You can’t press your lips to his and hear him sigh the way you love so much. You’d get sick. And you can’t let that happen. You repress a sigh and go to the bathroom to wash your hands.

   Lucien is standing by Damien’s bed when you walk back in, Damien sitting up with the bowl of soup on his lap. You only catch the last part of the conversation, but you can see that there’s a light in Damien’s eyes that says he’s thrilled that his son went through the effort of pouring a can of soup into a bowl and putting it in the microwave and then getting a spoon and then bringing all of it up to him.

   “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” Lucien grumbles. “It’s just noodles and veggies out of a can. It’s not like I made a huge effort.”

   Damien is smiling anyway. “You’re my son. I’ll always make a big deal out of the nice things you do. Really. Thank you. I love you.”

   Lucien scoffs dismissively. “Whatever,” he says as he starts towards the door. He pauses and looks back over his shoulder to say, “Love you too, dad. Feel better.”

   You and Lucien share a look before he disappears back out into the hall, probably headed back to his own room to sit around and sulk. Or whatever. You don’t really know what he does in there all day and, frankly, you’re a little scared to find out. Teenage boys, historically, tend to get in some trouble when left to their own devices. Not that you think he’s doing nothing but getting into trouble. He’s a good kid, you remind yourself. He’s a good kid and you would take a bullet for him.

   You sit down on the edge of the bed as Damien starts to eat his soup. “You raised a good kid,” you say.

   “I am very proud of him,” Damien replies. “For all his faults, he’s… he’s my son. And I’ve always seen all of the good in him, even if others don’t.” He looks at you with affection in his eyes. “It makes me happy to know that you can see it too.”

   “I’d have to be blind to not see it. He loves you.”

   “I love him.”

   “I love you too, you know.”

   “And I love you, too.”

   You laugh. “We’ve just got all the love in the world goin’ on in this house, don’t we?”

   Damien nods. “Absolutely.” He pauses to cough. “Lucien and I have always had a good relationship. But you… you brought in even more love. I’m so happy to have met you.” He coughs again. He’s talking too much.

   You get off the bed and kiss the top of his head again. “I’m incredibly happy that I met you, Damien. Every single day of my life. Now stop talking and eat your soup. You’re going to strain your throat. Eat and then take a nap, alright? Please? I know, I know, you don’t _want_ to nap, but you really do need to rest more.”

   He sighs. “Alright. I will.”

   “Good. And when you wake up from your nap, I’ll still be here. I promise.”

   There’s a look on his face of contentment, love, happiness… all those nice things. He says, “I know you will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl at this point I pretty much have a list of ideas for scenes like this that I can do so that's good,,, I should be able to keep this up for a little while~  
> ((Also "after what happened" obviously refers to your DEAD SPOUSE))


	4. A Morning Before an Antiquing Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Damien are going to go antiquing today. You're a little hesitant, but how could you say no to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun story: Like a week ago my friend Nancy and I actually went antiquing together and then DDADDS came out and I saw the skulls and stuff in Damien's parlor and I was like YO I SAW STUFF LIKE THAT AT AN ANTIQUE SHOP and now here we are

   You and Damien stayed up too late last night, watching documentaries on TV. You yawn and open your eyes. Damien’s face is just a few inches from yours, his eyes still closed and his face peaceful. You run your fingers through his hair, silently admiring how thick and soft it is. God, he's so beautiful.

   He sighs softly and opens his eyes. You can't help but feel special; he takes out his contacts, takes off his makeup, and ties his hair back when he's working, sure, but you get to see him like that in the morning, long before the thought of work even crosses his mind. Your hand slips out of his hair and rests on his back.

   “Good morning,” you say. “How'd you sleep?”

   He used to flinch slightly when you held him like this in the morning, unnecessarily embarrassed to be caught without his binder. You had hated that. It has never mattered to you if he's wearing a binder or not. And besides, you know it would have been stupidly unhealthy for him to wear one while he slept, so you had never expected him to. You love him. He's your prince.

   Instead of flinching, he now smiles. “I always sleep well when you're near.”

   Lord. He must want you to have a heart attack and die. That's _so sweet._ “I love you,” you say. That's the only thing you can think of.

   He chuckles. “I love you, too. But don't think that you're getting out of our plans just because you look so cute right now. You're still taking me antiquing today.”

   You sigh dramatically. “Fun. I get to follow you around and carry all your stuff.”

   “They have shopping carts.”

   “Oh. Do they?”

   “Of course. What, you think I’d go antique shopping somewhere that doesn't have carts?”

   “You're an enigma sometimes. It wouldn't surprise me.”

   He rolls his eyes. “Don't be ridiculous. You can find a lot of neat things in antique stores and you need something to put them in while you're walking around.”

   “Like… the cloth bags you take to the grocery store? Because you're all about that environmentally friendly shopping experience thing and don't believe in plastic bags?”

   “Those don't count. I still use shopping carts at the grocery store.”

   “Damien. You put the groceries in the bags as you go.”

   “But the bags are always in the cart, if you'll remember.”

   You pause, thinking back to the last time you went to the grocery store with him. He's right. He does keep the bags in the cart. “Fair enough,” you concede. “My apologies.”

   “You're definitely pushing the cart now. I was going to let you off easy and do it myself, but…”

   You sigh again. Damn. He's got you this time. “Alright, alright. You win.”

   He laughs victoriously and pulls you close into a brutal hug. He does that sometimes, hugs you harder than he probably needs to. You’d be a liar if you said that you didn't love it. He's not just beautiful. He's also _strong._ God, he's the full package. You hug back, weakly in comparison.

   You close your eyes and snuggle up to him, as close as you can possibly get. “Can we sleep a little longer?”

   “Darling…”

   “I'm sleepy.”

   “You're the one who wanted to stay up to watch that show about snakes.”

   “And _you're_ the one who got spooked by said snakes and had a hard time going to sleep. So I had to stay awake to calm you down.”

   “Which still wraps back around to you. I wouldn't have had trouble sleeping if you hadn't insisted on _snakes_.”

   “It was a cool documentary!”

   “It was _awful_! I… I mean, I admire the filmmakers’ dedication to their craft and I admire the genuine love the researchers had for the snakes, but… snakes are just…”

   “Scary?”

   “Yes. That. I am very scared of snakes. They don't have any _legs_! It's unnatural.”

   “You… aren't you scared of most insects, too? Arachnids at the very least?”

   “They have _too many_ legs. No living creature should have eight legs.”

   “Okay, but you aren't afraid of fish or octopus. They have no legs and eight legs, respectively. Well, I guess the octopus has, like, tentacles, but the point stands.”

   He huffs. “Fish and octopi live in the _water._ I don't have to step foot in water if I don't want to, so they don't worry me. Arachnids and snakes, however, are _everywhere._ One could ambush me at any given moment.”

   “Don't worry. I'll protect you from the arachnids and snakes,” you promise. You realize you haven't told him your feelings about both of those groups. Maybe it's best to just… not bring it up. It's not that important. As long as you can catch some spiders in some cups and take them outside and as long as you’re willing to dropkick a snake to defend your boyfriend’s honor from a freak with no legs, it'll be fine. You've got this.

   Probably.

   You groan unhappily when Damien starts trying to get up. You tighten your arms around him. “Nooooo. Not yet.”

   You can just _feel_ him staring at you with one of those looks that say, _darling, please._ “We need to get up before we spend the entire day in bed. We have things to do today.”

   You groan again. “ _Damien_ …”

   “If you don't get out of bed, I'm to make you wear some of my clothes while we’re out.”

   “You wouldn't.”

   “Wouldn't I?”

   “You know your clothes don't fit me.”

   “That is the point of the threat, yes. I know you aren't afraid of wearing my… style of dress. But wearing clothes that don't fit? That scares everyone.”

 _Ugh._ You finally let go of him and sit up. “ _Fiiiine_. I’ll get up and put my dumb clothes on and then we can go. Are we gonna eat breakfast before we leave, though?”

   Now that he's free from your grasp, he gets up and heads towards the closet. It's a walk-in, naturally, almost full to the brim. “Of course. What would you like?”

   You get up and follow him. You aren't officially living with him or anything, but there's still a section of the closet that houses a decent portion of your wardrobe. You also have a bunch of your stuff in the master bathroom. And maybe some of your snacks in the pantry.

   “That depends on how long you want to spend on breakfast,” you say. You grab a shirt from your little section of the closet and try very hard to not look over at him too much. He sheds his sleep shirt and goes hunting for today’s binder and all you can see is his back but _damn it_ he’s everything you've ever wanted. Absolutely captivating in every single way.

   You force yourself to look away, mentally berating yourself. You've spent several nights sleeping in his bed with him, sure, but those nights of sleeping together were really nothing but legitimate sleep; you haven't gone any further than some relatively intense kissing. Which is fine, of course. You don't mind waiting for him to be ready for more. When-slash-if he gets there one day, it'll have been worth the wait. For now, he trusts you enough to get undressed while you're around. You can't betray that trust by staring like a jerk.

   You take off your own sleep shirt and pull on the shirt you've decided to wear for today. As you get dressed, he replies. “I don't mind taking time for a good meal, you know that. Breakfast is very important.”

   As you grab a pair of your pants, you reach a decision. “How about some of those awesome pancakes you make? If you'll make the pancakes, I'll… cut up some strawberries? Or something. I think we have strawberries. Don't we?”

   “Last time I looked in the refrigerator, yes, but that was yesterday and I am raising a teenage boy. Who knows what’s still there?”

   You laugh. “I wonder. If we forced our kids into an eating competition, who would win? Personally, I think Amanda would kick Lucien’s butt.”

   “That’s absurd. You’ve never raised a boy.” You glance over at him. He’s almost done getting dressed, it would seem. “Lucien’s stomach must extend all the way down through his legs and not end until his feet.”

   “I dunno. Did you see how much mac and cheese Amanda ate at her graduation party?”

   “You’ve never seen Lucien at a buffet.”

   “You’ve never seen Amanda at a buffet, either.”

   When you’re both finished getting dressed, you stare each other in the eyes. The competitive mood drains away and you both start laughing, agreeing that both of your kids could eat you out of house and home. You just can’t keep up a competition with him the way you can with, say, Brian. _Brian._ You still have to get back at him for winning the daughter brag-off. You’ll beat him one day. One day…

   Well, there’s no reason to dwell on that now. You and Damien head to the kitchen to make a nice little breakfast for yourselves, finding that Lucien, thankfully, hasn’t eaten all of the strawberries since yesterday. That’s good.

   Truth be told, you don’t mind going places and carrying things for Damien. What kind of awful partner would you be if you didn’t even carry his shopping bags for him once in awhile? No, it’s not the _carrying things_ that worries you. You may have a bit of a dad bod goin’ on, but you can carry things like a champ. You’re more concerned about what you’re about to go do. You’ve never been antiquing and, frankly, you didn’t figure you ever would. Walking around a store and paying too much money for some old stuff just doesn’t seem very appealing, but when you and Damien were making the plans for it, he had been so excited that you couldn’t just say, “Oh, yeah, by the way, I’m fully expecting this to be kind of lame, so.”

   You wash the strawberries and grab a cutting board and a knife, setting about your mission of, well, cutting the strawberries. As you try very hard to cut the tops off of the berries and then slice them in half and to not slice one of your _fingers_ in half, you realize that you’re being silly. You’ve been worried about the _place_ you’re going to, not the _person_ you’re going to that place with. You love Damien. You love spending time with Damien. He’s so passionate about the things he likes that it naturally rubs off on you, making you adore things you otherwise wouldn’t. Suddenly you aren’t so worried about going to look at old, torn-up books and dusty teapots. He’ll make it interesting for you. You know he will.

   You look over at him. Your heart almost skips a beat. You’re never going to get tired of seeing his face.

   Today is going to be a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[SCREECHES INTO THE ABYSS]] I LOVE DAMIEN BLOODMARCH Y'ALL DONT UNDERSTAND  
> Also, I decided to start fics like this for the other dads, too!~ I.... have a bit of a rocky relationship with Joseph, but I love all the (other) dads too, so it makes sense that I write about them, too. I haven't decided which one to start on next, so I'd love to hear which one you guys would like to see the most. <3


	5. A Trip to a Haunted House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien decides to face some of his Halloween-based fears. It, uh, doesn't go as well as it could have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S ALMOST HALLOWEEN I DON'T CARE IF IT'S STILL JULY IT'S ALMOST HALLOWEEN

   “This was a horrible idea,” Damien says, looking around warily. “I’ve heard stories about places like these. They have people in awful clown masks walk around to scare the people in line, who, in this case, happen to be us.”

   He hasn’t let go of your hand since you entered the park. “You were the one who decided to conquer his fears. I’m just the supportive partner.”

   He sighs. “Is it too late for me to change my mind?”

   “Considering that we’re almost at the door, I’d say so.”

   “I regret all of this.”

   “I know you do, dear. I know.”

   Damien’s favorite thing about this time of this time of year is seeing people dress up their pets in cute Halloween costumes. He  _ adores _ getting to see pups all dressed up, wearing tiny devil costumes or cowboy costumes or princess costumes or… okay, he loves all of the dog costumes. Every last one of them. It isn’t Halloween yet, but you’ve gotten a few pictures of dressed up dogs from him. 

   Unfortunately, there’s more to October than cute dogs in Halloween costumes. There’s  _ actual _ Halloween. He’s told you that his house is pretty popular with trick-or-treaters, for obvious reasons. It’s big, black, and menacing. Not to mention that the people who live in look a lot like a fancy old-timey vampire raising his less fancy modern age vampire son. They aren’t  _ actually _ vampires, obviously, otherwise you’d be dead already, but they love that rumor more than you thought that they would. Especially after that time you took him to see  _ Vampire Crusade II: Evil Never Dies _ . Apparently, though, he’s only afraid of  _ other _ vampires. He’s totally chill with becoming a vampire each Halloween, if only to entertain the local children.

   Acting like a vampire for the trick-or-treaters and seeing cute dogs in cute Halloween costumes were both Halloween-themed activities he enjoys. He doesn’t enjoy, well, anything else about it. There are scary motion-activated decorations for sale just about  _ everywhere _ , each one always catching him off guard. There’s also roughly two solid weeks of nothing but horror movies of all types on TV; he doesn’t really watch a whole lot of TV, but he does like being able to turn on the TV without being greeted by a bloody porcelain doll with murder in its eyes. And another thing: Not all of the trick-or-treaters he gets are cute little kids. A bunch of them are stupid teenagers, usually around Lucien’s age, that come to cause trouble. And they’re usually wearing costumes with big, bloody, awful-looking masks. 

   So he made a decision. This year, he was going to make it through Halloween as unscathed as possible. Every year, an amusement park not far away has a huge, outrageous Halloween celebration that lasts pretty much all month. He asked you to go with him for moral support. That’s how you got here, holding his sweaty hand as you stand in line for the haunted house. If he survives this, there’s not much of a chance that he’ll get scared of a few teenagers in masks when Halloween night rolls around. Hopefully. 

   You’re almost at the front of the line. There’s just two more groups ahead of you, one being a young couple and the other being a massive group of friends. Oh, no, now there’s only the massive group of friends. The couple got waved in by the man running the line. Damien grips your hand a little tighter. God, how is he so strong? He doesn’t look like he’d have unreasonable strength, but when you try to count all of the times he’s hugged you so tight the air leaves your lungs and all the times he’s held your hand so tightly you think your fingers are going to break, you tend to lose count. He’s… way stronger than he looks. Which is pretty hot, honestly.

   “Damien,” you say. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ll be right there with you. We’re gonna come out of there alive.”

   He takes a deep breath. The group in front of you is waved in. “Yes. We will. We will get through this alive. Probably. Are you sure we can’t turn back?”

   You squeeze his hand, much lighter than he’s been squeezing yours. “Relax. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

   After a few moments, you two are waved in. The man managing the line doesn’t so much as raise an eyebrow when you and Damien walk by. Halloween, as treacherous as it is for Damien, comes with the big perk of it being moderately socially acceptable to dress the way he does. That’s not to say people around town usually bother him about it; pretty much everyone knows about him, and anyone who thinks it’s weird doesn’t seem to have the courage to say so. And if they did, you’d kill them to defend your boyfriend’s honor. Did they do that in the Victorian era? Probably not, but… 

   The first hallway is long and dark, the fluorescent lighting scarce and flickering. It seems like this place is mostly meant to help people’s eyes adjust to the darkness. Damien, being, well, Damien, had insisted that you come here in the middle of the day. There was no way he was going to a haunted house attraction at  _ night _ . He doesn’t usually mind night time, but this time of year just sets him on edge. 

   You turn around a corner. Along both walls are rows of… uh, mannequins? Animatronics? Something like that. They’re all gray-faced, old and decrepit looking, some with blood stains on their clothes and some with empty eye sockets. Pft. This isn’t so bad. If the rest of the place is going to be like this, you guys will be fine. You look over at Damien. He’s a little hunched over, like he’s feeling like he’s being watched by the  _ whatevers _ as you walk. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze and he manages a smile for you. Yeah. This is fine.

   And then one of them jumps out from its place, screaming and waving its arms in the air. It would’ve been funny if you hadn’t been convinced that this hall was just for creeps and didn’t have any actual scares, but you had convinced yourself of that and now you’re screaming and Damien is screaming and the thing is screaming and everything is  _ awful _ .

   The thing goes back into place almost as soon as it popped out. You see a small gleam of metal; definitely a motion-activated animatronic. And also a bitch. What a bitch. Damien’s still holding your hand, but now what had been his free hand is now grabbing your jacket. The position is a bit awkward. You take a deep breath, trying to will your heart to return to a normal pace. God, you’re too old for this. Everyone is either too old or too young for this. There is no good age for anyone to go into a haunted house ever. Suddenly you wish you had turned back when Damien first brought it up.

   You push onwards against better judgment. It’s not like the guy managing the line would let you guys leave through the entrance anyway. 

   The next hallway you pass through has glass on either side, allowing you to look into elaborately set up rooms. They seem to be hospital-themed, what with the gurneys and the scalpels and the… blood. Blood is just  _ everywhere _ . Real hospitals are not that bloody. Oh, wow. That fake body is only the pecs and up. From the pecs down, there’s just a vague skeleton. And possibly hints of the nerves? And, of course, more blood. Damien seems to have relaxed some. If the rest of the house can just be weird displays like this, that’d be great. You  _ just _ bought this jacket and you’d appreciate it if your boyfriend didn’t get so scared that he tore it. Because he’s totally capable of that.

   There’s a couple more rooms of gross displays with ominous music playing in the background. The sound effects are alright, you suppose. Lots of sudden shrieking and maniacal laughter, not that you expected anything  _ else _ from a place like this.

   A large animatronic spider jumps out at the two of you and, before you know it, Damien is straight-up  _ punching _ the thing. You’re… in shock. The spider retreats back into the hole it jumped out of, though because of its programming and not Damien’s fist. Which he is now cradling against his chest because he just punched a bunch of fur-covered metal and wires. 

   “What the  _ hell _ ?” you manage to ask as you two finally approach the exit. “Are you okay? Did you break anything? Should I take you to the hospital? Will I have to pay them for animatronic damage reimbursement?” 

   You step out into the light of day. He’s… smiling. “That was amazing,” he says, seemingly in awe. “I… I just… I didn’t jump away screaming again.”

   For some reason, a part of you thinks that that might have been a better outcome. His knuckles are red. You’re definitely taking him to the hospital. “Uh, yeah,” you say. “Look, I’m real proud of you for standing up for yourself and not letting a fake spider beat you in hand-to-hand combat, but you probably shouldn’t go around punching things if they scare you.”

   “It was a reflex. I didn’t  _ want _ to punch it. I just  _ did _ .”

   “Well. Lucien’s gonna love that story.”

   “Probably, yes.”

   “For real, though. I’m taking you to the hospital to get that hand checked out.”

   He sighs and agrees. Well, uh, hey. Maybe this means he won’t spend his entire Halloween worrying about obnoxious teenagers in weird masks?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost Halloween and also don't worry Damien will be fine and no money was owed to the haunted house people  
> also it's like almost midnight so this one might not be my best but I got hit with that ole razzle dazzle Halloween excitement and one thing led to another and now here we are


	6. An Attempt at a Horror Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Damien sit down to confront another one of his fears: the dreaded horror movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got bored and figured I'd write another one of these since I haven't in a little while and ye

   Damien snuggles up next to you underneath the big, fluffy blanket on the couch. The two of you are on  _ your _ couch at your house this time, not going to fall asleep listening to the rain. No, no, this time you’re trying something different. On the TV is the selection screen of a movie you and Amanda have watched a thousand times. You know Damien has never seen it. Technically, it’s labeled as a horror movie, but you know better than that. It’s mildly creepy at times but mostly humorous. 

   Damien had suggested that the two of you try to watch a scary movie about a week after the incident with the animatronic spider. You had taken him to the hospital that same day to have an X-ray done, just to make sure nothing was broken, and there wasn’t a fracture in sight. Just a bit of bruising that is still very visible. He’s been favoring that hand all week just to make sure that he doesn’t risk hurting it any more than he already did after, well, all of that. 

   You had been taken aback when he first suggested watching a scary movie. One that might be scarier than  _ Halloweentown _ . When you asked why, he said that it was because he wanted to continue on down the path of facing and conquering his fears. The haunted house had been a good experience and you’re both pretty sure that he’ll never be afraid of Halloween decorations in the drug store ever again, but there’s more to it than that. There’s still the fact that he won’t be able to escape horror movies on TV. There’s no way he’ll ever escape awful jumpscares in real life; there will always be people who will jump out in front of him when he isn’t expected it, there will always be sudden loud noises, and there will always,  _ always _ be something that he won’t see coming that has the chance to scare him out of his wits. If there’s anything that can prepare him for those possibilities, it’s horror movies. You figure that, if you watch enough of them together, he’ll build up some kind of immunity and he won’t be so affected by sudden scary things anymore. 

   You hold the remote up and press the play button, then wrap your arms around Damien protectively. “I’ll keep you safe from any monsters,” you promise. 

   He nods. “Hopefully you can continue to help me overcome my fears. But… what should I be aware of for this movie?” he asks as the opening scene begins to play.

   “Just about every movie monster ever,” you admit. “But don’t worry about it. Most of them are mentioned in passing. This movie is more fun than anything else, I promise.”

   He forces himself to keep from sighing. “Very well. I’m counting on you.”

   You press a kiss to the side of his head as you settle in for the movie. You really like this one. Maybe, just maybe, Damien will like it too. It’s different from usual horror movies. He just might be into it. 

   The movie introduces its main characters, slowly but surely, and the plot gets underway. Damien is fine so far since nothing has happened, but there’s a scene coming up that you’re vaguely concerned about it. The creepy man in this scene pops out of pretty much nowhere, startling Damien a bit but not well and truly scaring him. The main characters interact with him and then head on their way. The creepy man grabs a phone and starts talking, saying all sorts of strange things that sound creepy even though you know the context. Honestly, though, since you know what all is happening here, you can see the humor in it.

   Damien asks, “What is he on about? Wait, why are those people here? I don’t understand.”

   “You will,” you say. “You’ll get it by the end of the movie.”

   He groans softly as an important plot point pops up and he begins to realize there’s more to this story than it seems. 

   The main characters get to where they were going and begin to start messing around, doing regular horror movie things. You roll your eyes at all of the shenanigans; characters in horror movies always do stupid things for no reason. Well, maybe there’s a bit of a reason here, trying to show how the setting and events so far have been affecting the characters, but… ah, whatever. There’s no point in trying to make any of this sound fancy. It’s a horror movie about a bunch of dumb kids. Who cares about the  _ intricacies _ ?

   You continue watching the movie. Damien watches cautiously, knowing something else is coming up soon. And then it happens. Two of the characters head out into the woods and, out of nowhere, get horribly attacked. Damien makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a shriek. You tighten your arms around him and he relaxes a bit, taking a deep breath and trying to get even closer to you than he already is.

   The first character dies and Damien flinches. You can’t blame him. This movie is a bit gorey at times. You give him another quick kiss as reassurance. The story continues. 

   Character after character dies until there’s only one left. The whole time, Damien keeps jumping and making little noises. He sounds pretty much like he did when the two of you went to that haunted house, but maybe just a little bit more subdued. Even though he’s scared, you think that a part of him must understand that he’s with you and safe and that the things in the movie can’t hurt him. He also recovers quicker, taking deep breaths to calm himself and grabbing onto you when he’s really spooked. He’s getting better, slowly by surely, even if he keeps screaming now and then.

   By the time the movie is over, he looks like his nerves are completely shot. He’s doing better than you could have imagined, all things considered. He sighs in relief when the credits start to roll. “Did you keep track of how many times I screamed?” he asks as you stop the movie and tell the DVD player to open.

   “Not exactly,” you say, “but I think it was definitely less than that time went went to see  _ Vampire Crusade. _ ”

   He smiles. “Good. Good. I suppose I’m getting better?”

   “You sure are,” you tell him. You pull him in for a kiss. The rest of the tension in his body caused by his fear melts away. When the kiss ends, you smile back at him. “You’re doing great. Next time we can watch a more specialized movie, if you want. Maybe give  _ Vampire Crusade _ another chance?”

   He hesitates, then nods slightly. “We can try. I’m not sure how well I’ll do, though.”

   “You just did wonderfully on this one, Damien. You’ll be alright. I know you will.”

   “I love you,” he says softly. “Thank you for believing in me.”

   Your smile only grows. “I love you, too. And I know you can do anything you set your mind to. You did great this time and you’ll do great next time, too. I’ve got you.”

   He reluctantly lets you get up to return the DVD disc to its case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')  
> Also, for the record, the movie in this chapter is one of my favorite movies! "The Cabin in the Woods" came out a few years back and it's really good, so I totally suggest watching it. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come visit me on Twitter! I'm always down to talk about this dork <3 https://twitter.com/pastelkanan


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